The square root of -1
by SerialShipperSinceForever
Summary: First it's the breeze. Then it's the smell. Afterwards there is light. And from light comes warmth. Written for the May prompt: "Write a scene/story about a character experiencing a particular emotion with NO dialogue."


**The square root of -1**

First it's the breeze.

A fresh, full of life breeze that brings nothing but peace. The soft fabric against skin, making her shiver in contentment as the dress twirls in perfect harmony with the moving air. It's not uncomfortable – no, not at all, but pretty much the other way around instead. Everything is in perfect consonance, the elements in absolute equilibrium as soul is fused with nature and heart is filled with joy that cannot be explained nor described, only felt – and that's enough for her.

Then it's the smell.

The scent of the recently mowed grass mixing with that smell of wet stone that leaves one with a strange sensation in the teeth and yet makes her want more. The smell of water that runs and runs leading to the familiar smell of just prepared food that comes from the kitchen, attracting both primal instincts of hunger and an intellectual curiosity that can't be controlled.

And she's nothing but lead to the familiar homey scents – all of them.

Afterwards there is light.

It either comes from the rays of sun that fall directly on her skin, making her golden hair shine even more than it already does by itself and letting her be the brightest spirit in the place, irradiating life and happiness wherever she goes; or perhaps it comes from the doors of the ballroom, whose glass in some mysterious way sometimes allows no clear image to go through it, and yet it's trespassed by the sun. Or maybe it does not even come from the master of all the celestial bodies and it's just a product of the flames that dance elegantly in the fireplace. It's like they're choreographed and yet they are also genuine and heartfelt. Just like… just like the Laendler.

Oh, the Laendler… two beings in a crowded event and yet truly alone… the warmth of hands and limbs and bodies communicating a warmth that is born deeper within themselves… the synchronized movements that are purely based on instinct and yet at the same time happen in mutual agreement, the touches that are innocent and also full of desire and it stirs an electrical shock through her spine in a hot wave that is divided between her chest in lower belly…

Oh yes, warmth…

And it comes from everything and it's in everything and it moves through everything! A rising temperature that melts flesh and bone and blood and turns all of it into some homogeneous mixture glued by passion and emotion! A feral desire which burns and turns whatever it reaches into the most beautiful mess of heart and physics and psyche and how can one ever think of getting enough of it? And she feels it burning in her senses and reducing her loins to nothing but ashes…

The first morning sun peering through the drapes…

The fresh morning breeze quietly invading the room through the open window…

The calm breathing – occasionally punctuated with some light snoring – which only intensifies and is intensified by the steady heartbeats, more regular than consonant metronomes…

The crumpled sheets of soft white silk slightly stained with sweat that still falls from the sleeping figures tangled in them… warm bodies joined in heart and soul…

And her eyes open, absorbing but not spoiling the ethereal environment. Images flash in her vision: the children are singing, first sadly but then joyously; then it's the gazebo, filled with moonlight which, as beautiful as it is, cannot even dare to compare to the happiness she feels; afterwards there is a dress, a white gown enveloping her figure as she walks ahead, towards the most beautiful pair of eyes she has ever seen…

The same blue eyes that are staring at her right now, and oh, how she longs to dive in them, for they are as blue as she imagines the sea they know so well to be! Her heart is now racing with emotion and uncertainty about what to do next, but not for long because, just a moment later, any thoughts she might have are clouded and her eyes are shut and all she feels is his kiss… _Georg's kiss…_

And suddenly, everything disappears.

And she is now all alone, and instead of fulfillment and happiness there's darkness and despair, and where there was supposed to be comfort and passion and love there's only pain and confusion and loneliness and where there were supposed to be loving kisses and caresses there are only endless tears over what wasn't, had never been and could never be hers…

She almost didn't even hear the sudden knock on the door:

"Maria, the Reverend Mother is waiting for you in her office."


End file.
